


How To Pick A Pack

by Areiton



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha Gabriel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Domestic Fluff, Implied/Referenced Suicide, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Lawyer Sam, M/M, Mating Bond, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Castiel, Omega Sam, Pack Dynamics, Public Sex, Scent Marking, Some Abuse, Stalking, but it's not really stalking, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-10 13:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8919475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: Dean Winchester’s brother is acting off. Twitchy and almost shy. Needy in a way the kid hasn’t been since he was a damn teenager. And it’s setting off every single alpha overprotective instinct Dean has.
Castiel can't get the scent of Sam Winchester out of his head. He smells-almost-like mate. But Sam is ignoring him, and Cas can't figure out why, so he starts following him, quietly courting the alpha.
Sam has no idea why he’s being stalked, why his stalker is so damn nice and why his boss won’t look at him. Sure, Gabriel Novak is miles out of his league, but it doesn’t keep him from pining, just a little.
Gabriel wants a lot of things in life, and isn’t used to denying himself. But Sam? Sam is one thing he’s spent years denying. The kid is gorgeous and sassy and everything Gabe wants and there’s no fucking way he’s going to screw up his life.
 
  The thing is that you can pick your pack, and you can plan for shit, but sometimes life happens, and for these four? It just did.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Few things:  
> This was beta'd by the lovely and talented [Oceanbluecas ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanbluecas/pseuds/oceanbluecas). Any remaining mistakes are all me. (Thanks, love!)  
> This was my contribution to the SPN ABO Big Bang, which was so much fun! The art was done by [kuwlshadow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kuwlshadow/pseuds/kuwlshadow).  
> Lastly--a few notes about this particular world:
> 
> So my ABO is a little different.  
> -An alpha cares not just for his mate, but for his pack.  
> -Unmated omegas (and betas, on occasion) are protected and treasured by the alpha, and while some are abused and some are very traditional and restricted, that depends on the alpha.  
> -An unmated omega living with his pack alpha may carry his alpha's scent mark. While it's not super common, it happens. It is very normal for packs to live together. It's a symbiotic relationship--the betas and omegas are offered protection while the alpha is exposed to all the delightful calming pheromones of the omega or beta without all the messy commitment of a bond.  
> -That said, packs are incredibly close and it's rare for them to fracture. An alpha may forgo mating if the pack dislikes the mate in order to keep peace within the pack.
> 
> I think that's the major difference. Ok. Here we go. <3

 

 

i.

 

Sam was acting squirrelly.

Dean had been watching him for a few days. The first night, he put it down to a new case--Sam always got a little on edge when the law firm started working on a new case. But then he always settled, thriving on the challenge.

Except this time he didn't. If anything, he became even needier, and anxious. He sat a little closer than normal on the couch while he worked, and quit early, shoving all the papers aside to sprawl on the floor, his head near enough to Dean that it was easy to breath in the comfortable scent of his brother, and Dean could pet his fingers through Sam's ridiculous hair as they watched Die Hard. Again.

He didn't even get bitchy when Dean tugged, lightly, on that hair, pulling Sam's head back with a gentle grip. Sam didn't resist, letting the alpha move him where he wanted, his long neck exposed, his eyes closed, as close to blissed out as Dean had seen in months. "You should get this shit cut."

Sam shrugged, and Dean's eyebrows shot up.

Sam was an omega, and he liked to be touched. He was a natural submissive, and nature said he bent easy to the will of an alpha.

But he _wasn't_ an omega bitch. He didn't roll over and take any shit dished out by a douche with a knot. For an omega, he was downright mouthy and more than held his own when it came to Dean. Which worked, because Dean adored his brother, and while he was willing to play pack alpha to Sam's unmated omega as long as Sam needed, it was in name only. He didn't want to control Sam's life, didn't want to tug him by the leash of biology and protocol.

So Sam being submissive, needy, baring his throat like that--it's setting every instinct Dean has on edge.

His inner wolf is screaming _protectpackprotect!_

And his inner older brother is screaming, _wrongwrongwrong!_

"Sam?" He asks, and Sam shifts, hearing the thread of wolf in Dean's voice, the hint of command.

Just a hint. Dean would never truly compel Sam. He's spent a lifetime making sure that Sam lived free of that shit, even after he presented as an omega.

"It's fine. I'm fine. I think it's about time for my cycle."

Dean makes a face, but then concern inches in. "You're good though? Suppressants still working?"

Sam nods, huffs a little in irritation, and Dean grins a little.

Kid always gets a little bitchy when it's time for his heat. Even if he doesn't go through that shit anymore, his attitude will be all over the damn place for a few days. Satisfied it's nothing more than biology, Dean does what he has always done best: he settles back against the couch, and tugs his fingers through Sam's hair, letting his nails rub against his scalp until Sam is almost purring, half asleep as the movie ends.

Dean takes care of his brother.

 

ii.

 

Dean was sixteen when Sam presented. John had been convinced Sam would present as an alpha. He'd been talking about it for years. Dean personally thought that having three alphas in the house without a beta or omega to balance their tempers was asking for trouble. He kept that to himself.

So John thought his boys would be alphas, ready to go out and make little packs of their own.

Dean knew that was bullshit, but he kept _that_ to himself, too. When Sam slammed into his first heat, John was shocked, furious and completely unprepared. Dean came home from wrestling practice to a house that reeked of heat and slick and a brother sobbing in their room, a wet mess of need and want, and a father standing in the doorway of the bedroom, eyes wide and vacant.

"Dean," John said, his voice bewildered. Searching.

 _"Dean,"_ Sam wailed, his voice aching. Begging.

And Dean did what he has always done best: he shoved past his father, shoved his own instincts down, and hurried to the closet. Grabbed the bag of shit he'd bought a few months ago, when he knew Sam was gonna present soon.

John may have thought Sam was an alpha, but Dean had never once believed that. Sam was all sass and fury and sharp biting edges, but he was omega through and through.

He settled on the edge of the bed, and ignored the way his brother writhed. "Ok, buddy. We talked ‘bout this, remember?"

Sam gives him a frantic nod and Dean smiles at him. Runs a hand through the kid's long sweaty hair. "Everything you need is here. Remember how you use everything?"

"I remember," Sam rasps out, and his body gives this big shudder, and Dean stands.

"I'll be outside, buddy. You need anything, I'll be right outside."

Fear flickers in his eyes. "Don't leave me."

Omegas get hurt, alone during heat. Every child knows that. Even now, now that omegas aren't treated like property and a pretty hole to be stuffed and fucked--omegas in heat are too tempting. They get hurt.

Dean shoves down the fury that's nipping at his heels, and grabs Sam's hand where's it's reaching for his sleeve. "I'm not leaving you, Sam. I'll be outside that door, until this is over. Got it?"

Sam stares at his brother, and for a heartbeat, the fever of heat recedes, and he nods, relief in his eyes.

Dean nudges John out of the room, and closes the door behind him, and leans against the door. Closes his eyes.

"You were ready for heat." John says.

Dean opens his eyes, and eyes the man who has been his alpha for sixteen years.

"I was. He's my pack. It’s my job to make sure he's taken care of. However he presented."

John blinks. The word in that is clear. _My_ pack. _My_ job.

Dean holds his breath, waiting. John could challenge him. Sam is his son, after all. Claiming the kid as pack is risky and stupid and so instinctive it's done before Dean even realizes it.

John doesn't respond, though. He nods. And retreats.

Dean sits outside that door for five days, while Sam's first heat ravages him.

Because that's what an alpha does--they take care of their pack.

Dean takes care of his kid.

 

iii.

 

"Something's wrong with Sam," Dean announces, throwing himself into the booth.

Krissy blinks at him, a small smile turning her lips. Her voice is very dry when she says, "Gee, I'm good, Dean. Thanks for asking. I got that job at the dentist’s office. I know. Isn't it spectacular."

Dean points at her, fierce, "Don't get sassy, Kris. I'm still tempted to make you move in with us."

She makes a face, but ducks behind her laminated menu.

It's an empty threat. Dean doesn't have room in the small apartment he and Sam shares--that's why he didn't throw (much of) a fit when Krissy and Charlie and Kevin all moved out. At least Kevin and Charlie lived in an apartment in the same building. He could keep an eye on them--they crashed into his apartment more nights than not--but Krissy lived all the way across town, in a big house with two other kids her age. It made him nervous, having one of his omegas so far away and so unprotected.

"You're doing it again," she says, without looking up, shifting a little. Dean grimaces and takes a deep breath--even he can taste the worry he's throwing off.

"Tell me about Sam," Krissy says, and he lets out a grumpy huff. His worry dissipates into annoyance and a familiar concern.

"He's been...submissive. Not Sam's normal bitchy attitude."

Krissy stares at him and Dean waves a hand. "He's been clingy, Kris."

She keeps staring. "There," Dean shrugs. He toys with a fork lamely. "He's just... _off_."

Krissy blinks. "Your omega brother--your _pack--_ has been acting like an omega. And you're worried."

When she puts it that way. "Well, when you put it that way," he mutters.

"You know that this is why I live on the other side of town and not close to you,” she says dryly.

He glares and Krissy laughs. She stands up and circles the table, pressing up to her alpha.

Dean hugs her close.

She’s a good kid. He worked with her dad, until he was killed in a car accident, leaving Krissy alone. Dean had watched the kid grow up, and it was a no brainier to claim her as pack. Sam was a protective of her as he was. The problem was that Krissy was just as independent an omega as Sam was--and she didn't want to be a good little pack omega. She wanted to move in with her best friend and finish school and work her way through college.

So Dean did what he does best: he moved into her little rental house for a month, grounding it in his scent, and making sure that Krissy was as safe as she claimed. He scared the shit out of Josephine's boyfriend and let everyone know that Krissy was under an alpha's protection.

Sam dragged her to an omega doctor to gett her on suppressants and Dean dragged her to their little apartment when her heat slammed into her, where he sat outside her door, a protective hulking presence, while she worked her way through it.

And then he gave her what she needed--space to grieve and to grow up. It hurt like hell and he hated it more than he would ever be able to say, but he did it. He gave her the space that let her grow up to be the smart as fuck little omega that eyes him affectionately now and reminds him that he has a tendency to worry over nothing. It was, looking back, one of the hardest things he's ever done. But it’s what Dean does best.

Dean took care of his pack.

 

iv.

 

"You collect strays, boy. It's gonna bite you on the ass."

Dean glares at his surrogate father. Bobby is the alpha who stepped in and helped take care of the Winchesters when John realized his youngest was an omega. John didn't ditch them--not completely--but he was gone, in mind and spirit, more than he was present. Maybe that was Dean's fault, for claiming Sam so young.

Bobby smirks and leans against a glass case. Kevin hisses and hip checks the older alpha off the display case, wiping it down with quick, furious strokes. Dean swallows his laugh as the young beta glares at Bobby one last time before darting back behind the counter and adjusting the coffee maker and cash register.

They open in five minutes, and Kevin is doing what he's so damn good at--making sure the shop is ready for the influx of morning commuters. Dean would be lost without the kid. He was vaguely worried about what was gonna happen when Kevin graduated from college. The kid was getting a damn degree in astrophysics and political science.

He wouldn't want to run a damn bookstore forever.

It's something Dean's been avoiding thinking about.

"I like my strays," Dean says casually, pouring a to-go cup and grabbing a bran muffin. Shit was nasty, no matter how much magic Charlie worked in the kitchen, but Sam loved them.

There's a rap at the door, and Bobby huffs a sigh, pushing the door open and letting Sam in. He gives the omega a once over and then, gruffly, "What the hell has you in knots, boy?"

Sam's eyes dart to Dean and then back to Bobby. "Nothing. I'm fine. Why?"

"Because you smell like fear and reek of Dean," Bobby says bluntly.

Dean straightens, and Kevin goes still. His eyes dart between his two packmates.

"A word," Dean says, tightly.

Sam shifts half a step back, "I'm gonna be late, dude."

Dean smiles, and lets a little bit of alpha slip the leash, lets his smile go just a little too feral to be called polite. "I don't really give a fuck."

Sam stares for a moment, and then huffs, and throws Bobby an affronted, angry face. Bobby shrugs once and sips his coffee as the brothers stomp into the tiny office Dean rarely uses.

"Tell me what the hell is going on with you." Dean says, before the door is even shut.

"Nothing," Sam says stiffly.

"You've been submissive for a week. You've been fucking cuddling, and you haven't argued with a single thing I've said. That’s not you, brother, even if I _am_ your alpha. And you slept in my bed last night. I've been giving you space, but if Bobby is smelling the fear on you, I'm clearly missing something and that shit won't work. So _tell_ me. What the fuck is going on, Sam?"

Sam stares at his brother for a long minute, and then lets his gaze drop.

And Dean can smell the fear on him, under the scent of coffee and baking sugar. He swallows the snarl that's in his throat when he scents something else. A curdle of guilt and embarrassment.

Like whatever has Sam scared enough to sleep in Dean's bed is _his_ fault.

"Dude, you gotta talk to me," Dean almost begs and Sam nods.

Swallows hard.

"I think--I think someone is courting me."


	2. Chapter 2

 

i.

 

The madding thing was that he couldn't just ask.

He wanted to.

God, every fucking instinct in him was screaming for him to corner the alpha and demand to be knotted.

But he couldn't.

For one, he wasn't a slut, omega or not. He had never once begged an alpha to fuck him, not even in heat, something Castiel was inordinately pleased by. He wanted to impress the alpha. Coming at him like a needy, slutty omega wasn't the way to impress him.

And there was the fact that the alpha was Gabriel's protégé, his favorite associate, not someone that Castiel, a new packless omega, could just accost, even if he were so inclined.

So he didn't. He watched the alpha, and he took the moments work afforded to be near him and he considered what the hell he should do next.

Because there was a major problem.

Sam Winchester seemed utterly indifferent to him.

 

 

ii.

 

Castiel was a bad omega.

He was willful and defiant and more inclined to his bedroom to peruse poetry on Friday nights than to accompany his pack to the bars in search of a pretty beta or horny alpha.

It wasn't so much that he disliked sex. He didn't. He quite enjoyed it. He just hated all the rules and the way that he was expected to behave, simply because he was omega.

He wasn't submissive. He never had been, not even when he was obedient.

It was something that amused the hell out of his older alpha brother and pissed off his beta mother to no end.

He didn't know how to submit and when he broke from his pack to move back to his family home, Castiel contented himself with being alone.

Gabriel was an alpha and his brother, and they would be pack because of course they would. He would never leave Cas unprotected. But if Cas was a bad omega, Gabe was an even worse alpha, and he knew that his new pack would be nothing but a formal claim made to protect him.

It infuriated Castiel that he even needed protection.

But he needed to leave Chicago more than he needed to stay with his pack and for all of Gabe's...Gabe-ness...Castiel trusted his brother more than anyone but his alpha.

So he was a bad omega. And he was always comfortable with that. He had no use for the posturing bullshit of a typical alpha and less for the simpering submission of the traditional omega. He liked who he was. Liked that he confused people with his dry humor and blank stares and that he found more comfort in books than he did people.

He'd never wanted to change that.

Until he showed up for his first day at Novak and Associates, when he got his first scent of Sam Winchester and all he could think was,

_My alpha._

 

 

iii.

 

 

Castiel is hiding.

Gabriel watches as his brother peers furtively from behind his computer and tries very hard not to grin.

He doesn't know what the hell has Cas tied up in knots but he kinda loves it. Nothing’s been able to ruffle his very proper baby brother since he first met that damn alpha who dragged him to Chicago four years ago.

But.

Gabe sniffs the air and straightens, his brother forgotten as the door to the office downstairs opens.

He smells him first, the way he always does--the smell of burnt sugar and dark chocolate and autumn leaves. The scent that is so fucking tempting and right. The heady scent that Gabe knows damn well he shouldn't be able to smell.

But Sam's been his exception to every rule since the day they met.

He hears the younger man's voice next, a deep, warm rumble directed at the boy who man's the front desk. Manny mumbles a soft response that is lost in Sam's laugh, and then he's jogging up the stairs.

He falters when he sees Gabe standing there, and his scent changes. Becomes a shade sweeter, the kind of deep sweet that makes Gabe want to rub his nose along the other man's collar, makes him want to climb that tall frame like a fucking tree.

"Hey, Gabriel," Sam says, and there's a trace of nerves in his voice--and his scent--that jerks the alpha in him up, and on edge.

...which he's got no right to do.

Sam isn't his.

Sam has a devoted pack alpha and he doesn't need the mess that is Gabriel Novak.

"Samsquatch," Gabe almost purrs and he's more than a little amused when he sees the kid flush. "Is that for me?"

Sam smirks and tosses him the bran muffin that Gabe hates but Sam keeps providing.

It's probably the healthiest thing in his damn diet.

"I got the briefs finished," Sam says without waiting for his boss to eat, without bothering to get to his desk before he's digging in his bag, dragging papers out and eyeing them critically.

And Gabriel smiles into his muffin, leans over the younger man's broad shoulder as Sam babbles about work and Gabe pretends he cares.

He doesn't.

But it's a good fucking excuse to get close.

 

iv.

 

The first time Gabe met Sam Winchester, the kid was barely legal, and that thought kept him firmly on the other side of the receptionist desk. He was running Novak and Associates on his own, his brothers having deserted him for bigger, better firms in bigger, brighter cities, when this massive kid with floppy hair and eyes every damn color of the earth and sky and sea all swirled round and flecked with gold, traipsed into the office with a bright smile and a shiny transcript from Stanford.

"Why don't you intern in Cali?" Gabe had asked, not looking at the kid.

Because he could smell him, all omega sweetness, a fucking siren song of _need mate need fuck mate PACK._

"My pack lives here. I don't mind spending the school year away from them, but it's not ideal. I would like the spend the summer here, between semesters--and I'd be willing to remote intern during the academic year, grunt work. I'll be moving back to Lawrence after I graduate."

"Because of your pack?" Gabe queried, darting a glance at the omega.

Sam nodded, a tiny smile turning his lips.

He was presenting as an alpha on suppressants, and with that big body and dominant air, he almost pulled it off.

Almost.

"What does your alpha think of you living halfway across the country?" Gabe asked, dropping the resume and staring at Sam.

The kid's eyes went very wide and fear threaded through his scent, and it almost propelled Gabe over the desk to catch Sam in his arms and soothe away that hitch in his breath and furrow between his eyes.

Fuck, he smelled like heaven, and that fear made Gabe furious.

He took a deep breath, shoving down that fury, and Sam shrugged. "He likes me being close. One reason I'm trying to find an internship. If I have to stay in Cali, he'll back me."

Gabe's head tilted, and a tiny smile played over his lips. "Good alpha."

Sam nodded, fondness in his eyes. "Good brother."

And that decided it. Because if this bright, sexy kid smelled like the best kind of dark chocolate and _wasn't_ mated, there was no way Gabe was letting him go anywhere else.

He flashed a smile. "When do you get home for the summer?"

 

v.

 

Sam likes working for Novak and Associates. He won't ever admit to Dean that he has a crush on his boss, but Krissy knows and she teases him about it sometimes, when they're the only ones left up late at night after movies and pizza.

More than that, he _likes_ the work. It's challenging, fighting for omega rights, defending them in abuse cases and the occasional divorce. Too often omegas are taken advantage of or sold by a predatory alpha. Even with packs to protect them, omegas are easy to take advantage of. Easy to abuse.

The first time he told Dean he wanted to be a lawyer, he was bloody and tears still stained his cheeks. He was fifteen and being picked on by older alphas now that Dean was out of school, and even though he had the personality of an alpha, and things didn't escalate often--it was hard.

That day, he'd been caught in the locker room by three alphas, and they'd pinned him to the wall.

He lashed out, all furious rage and the precise training Dean insisted on the day he came out of his first heat. He came away with bruises and a bloody nose and busted knuckles and wounded pride.

Dean had been shaking, full on feral alpha. It had taken Charlie and Karen, Bobby’s omega wife, to calm him down while Sam cleaned himself up and then cuddled up to his brother.

He was pretty sure Dean was sleeping when he muttered, "This shit isn't fair. And I'm gonna stop it."

Dean proved him wrong when his grip on Sam tightened. "How?"

A long silence, and then, "I'm going to be an omega rights lawyer.”

That was over ten years ago, and Sam had never changed his mind about that. Dean had never stopped supporting him. Now he worked for a small, but thriving little omega rights firm, and the alpha in charge left him laughing more often than he didn't and made him feel _safe_. It was everything Sam wanted.

Except the past week.

He doesn't want to go to his desk. As Gabe claps him on the shoulder and retreats, Sam twitches a little and takes a deep breath.

"Hello, Sam," a low voice says, shaking him from his thoughts. Sam swallows his curse and looks at his boss's brother.

"Cas. Hey. I didn't see you."

"Are you--are you ok?" Cas says, stepping closer. His eyes are wide and curious and Sam wished the dude wasn't on suppressants. He understood it. Gabe wore them too--most alphas who had to work with omegas were on suppressants. It was too easy to overwhelm the omegas if they weren't.

But it's hard as fuck to read an alpha on suppressants.

"I'm fine, Cas," Sam says, forcing a smile. He takes a step away, toward his desk. "Just tired."

He turns away from him and so he doesn't see the longing that flashes across the other man's face, or the half step he takes after Sam.

And because Castiel is watching the tall man retreating, he doesn't see his brother watching it all with a broken expression from his office.


	3. Chapter 3

i.

 

It goes on for two weeks. Two weeks of being followed discreetly, of little gifts at his desk, of a scent that was too blocked to really identify and _why_ was an alpha on blockers _courting_ him?

Because that's what it was. He was being wooed and courted and it was freaking him the fuck out.

He was sleeping in Dean's bed, for fuck's sake. He hadn't done that since the year after John left, a year after Sam presented and Dean claimed him as pack.

It was a comfort thing--reassuring himself even in his sleep that he was safe and protected.

But he was past scared and skittish. Now he was just fucking pissed, and a pissed off Sam wasn't something Dean wanted to live with for long. He watched as his brother slammed around the apartment, snarling and cursing under his breath, shoving hair out of his eyes.

Kevin and Charlie were opening the shop, Dean's one late morning a week, the morning he liked to relax with Sam and catch breakfast with Krissy, and instead, he's watching Sam with the wary caution one would use when approaching a wild animal. Not even coffee was calming him down today.

Dean has been around his brother long enough to know how to play this out. So he keeps his mouth shut, slides a breakfast sandwich--a baguette with a folded egg, flat sausage patty, and pepperjack cheese--wrapped in a paper napkin to him. Then one in tin foil, because Dean is well aware that Sam's been feeding his boss part of his breakfast almost as long as he's been at N&A.

Then he pulls out a phone and taps a quick message.

Sam would be--will be-- _pissed_ when he finds out.

And maybe this isn't fair, but it's also his job as alpha, and more importantly, as Sam's brother.

He's going to take care of his brother.

 

ii.

 

The thing about Gabriel Novak, Dean reflects, as the blond stalks into Winchesters Curiosities, was that he was so damn...peppy.

He was all charm and smiles and sly amusement that just...rubbed Dean _wrong._

And there was the unmated scent of alpha that the dude fucking _reeked_ of, even when he wore blockers. The first week of Sam working with him, Dean spent hiding from his brother because the scent of the other alpha made him fucking furious.

Irrational or not, he wanted to tear the other alpha’s fucking throat out, wanted to cover Sam in his scent mark so he'd back the fuck off Dean's pack. Dean's _brother._

Sam would castrate him for that, though--it _was_ irrational--and as time slid by, he got used to the alpha's sent on his packmate.

The real switch came when Sam finished his first trial. A little omega with two pups and a third on the way, fleeing an abusive omega and suing for full custody. Sam rocked the hell out of his trial, and got the omega everything she asked for, _plus_ child support. He was so fucking high on his win that Gabe hadn't been able to resist taking him out to celebrate. Claimed it was tradition. Sam dragged Dean along, and it was during the desert, when Gabe was making these orgasmic noises over a chocolate truffle and Sam was laughing and a little drunk, that the alpha showed up.

He'd stalked Sam down, and lunged at him over the table, out of nowhere, stunning all of them.

Dean had moved, without thinking.

But not as fast as Gabe.

Gabe, this little fucker who joked his way through court, came up to Sam's shoulder and thought chocolate was a food group, had grabbed the charging alpha and thrown him across the room into a marble column where he held him, snarling, a hand at his throat.

He'd gone from laughing to full on feral in less than a blink of the eye, and through his fury, snarled, _"Mine."_

Dean had to reconsider him after that. Had to accept that he might not _like_ the other alpha, but he was protective and considered Sam pack enough to protect without challenging Dean.

And that was enough.

Watching the jackass stride into the bookstore, he tried to remind himself of all of that.

"Deano. You said it was urgent."

He's dressed down, in jeans and a t-shirt, with a green army jacket that should look shabby but doesn't. "Do lawyers really dress like that?"

"When we don't have court, we sure as fuck do." He grins. "But you didn't call to talk to me about my wardrobe choices. What do you need, Dean?"

"Someone's harassing Sam."

Gabe's eyes narrow and his spine snaps straight. "Why the hell would you think that?"

"Sam is gonna kick my ass for telling you this," Dean mutters and Gabe snarls softly, angry.

"Sam's safety is more important than his pride," he snaps.

Which.

True.

So Dean tells him. And watches, watches all of the anger drain out of the other man, leaving him almost limp. He stumbles a little, and falls into a chair at the table Dean is leaning against.

"Fuck."

_Not a promising response._

"Gabe, what the hell--" Dean starts and Gabe shakes his head.

"I--I'll handle it. Don't worry. It won't be an issue."

Dean opens his mouth, to argue, or to snap at the other alpha, but Gabe is jerking to his feet, and yelling goodbyes to Charlie, before he's gone.

_Well, fuck._

ii

 

"Castiel, I need you in my office."

Both Castiel and Sam, sitting at their respective desks, _flinch_ when the alpha stalks into the office. He's throwing fury like waves, even through his blockers, and he's too fucking pissed to do a damn thing about it. He pauses in the doorway to his office, and looks back at them. Neither have moved. "Sam, go home." He snaps, and then glares at Castiel, " _Now, Cassie."_

Sam inhales and his eyes narrow, a low snarl slipping free. Gabe gives him a sharp look. "I'm pissed at you too, so watch it, pup. Get your ass out of here and I'll deal with your shit tomorrow."

"Gabe," Sam starts, and the alpha snarls, a sharp, vicious noise that shocks the fuck out of Sam and sends him scrambling back a step.

And Gabe hates himself for it. He hates seeing fear in Sam's eyes. Hates seeing him cowering, the way his shoulders hunch and his head dips down and to the side, radiating submission and vulnerability, his fucking throat laid bare for Gabe's pleasure.

Not like this. He never wanted Sam like _this._

So he does what he has to. He shoves down all of his anger, and lets out a sigh. He walks back to Sam and touches the omega's elbow. "You aren't in trouble. Not really. But I need to deal with this, and I'd rather you not be around my temper. Ok?"

"I'm not scared of your temper, Gabe," Sam insists, his voice low.

And isn't _that_ a kick in the gut. Because the kid is an omega and Gabe is a strong alpha, and not pack. He has every fucking right to be afraid of Gabe's anger. "You're kinda stupid, though, Samsquatch. Don't make me talk to your alpha about your self-preservation skills."

Sam huffs a laugh, and his fear slides away, enough that the sick twist in Gabe's gut loosens a little. "Do you really think Dean neglected that?" he grins.

Gabe snorts his opinion of Sam's overprotective brother and Sam's eyes soften a little. "I don't need to go. I don't like leaving you when you're angry."

"Go, Moose," Gabe says, a little tart. "I'll be fine. I need to talk to my brother."

Sam nods and he starts to get his stuff together while Gabe twists and walks back to his office. Castiel is standing in the doorway, his blue eyes curious and apprehensive.

Gabe nods at him and the omega's lips tighten angrily. He glances back at Sam and then stalks into the office. Gabe looks back too, and finds the kid watching him, and he swallows hard at what he sees in Sam's eyes. Worry. Concern. And something else Gabe is too much of a coward to sort out, so he doesn't. He smiles once and pops a sucker in his mouth as he strolls into the office and let's the door shut behind him.

 

 

iv.

 

Castiel is furious. He can smell Sam all over Gabe when he shuts the door, the kind of covered in scent that only comes from close contact and he swallows a growl that is too feral to lose in an office.

"What the fuck are you doing, Cassie?" Gabe snaps.

And that startles Cas out of his anger. He blinks and Gabe stares at him, bristling with anger.

"What do you mean?" Castiel asks, cautiously.

"I mean I just left a meeting with Sam's alpha. The kid is a fucking mess. Know why? He's being stalked. Any guesses as to what the fuck happened there?"

Castiel frowns. He’s stuck a few sentences back, on something that makes no sense. "Sam has an alpha?"

The question stops Gabe in his tracks and his eyes go wide. "Jesus."

All of the alpha posturing slides out if him in a furious rush and he slumps into the chair behind his desk. "Sam is an omega, Cas. Of course he has an alpha."

Cas whimpers. He honest to fuck _whimpers_. "He can't be," Cas protests, leaning forward, and Gabe gets a rush of distressed, fucking distraught omega under the blockers that his brother uses. It makes his alpha stir, nervous and anxious to soothe. "He's...."

"What?" Gabe asks, watching the younger man. 

Cas stares at Gabe, with tears shining in his big blue eyes and he looks so broken and lost that Gabe finally relents.

"Tell me. Tell me everything."


	4. Chapter 4

 

i.

 

 

It's not so much that Castiel expected to go through life without a mate. It's just what happened. He didn't even miss it.

Well. Heat was hell, and there was that fucking ache to be filled, to be held and knotted and bred, that made the whole thing even worse.

Meg had been a good pack Alpha, but she couldn't give him that and he never would have asked. Meg was family, friend, pack.

She wasn't mate. He didn't want her to be.

Then she mated Ruby and Castiel couldn't stay. Not when Balthazar was eyeing him with more and more intent and Ruby was rubbing every instinct wrong.

Meg hadn't fought him. She had been sad, sure, but Meg knew Castiel. Better than anyone but maybe Gabe. She wasn't surprised when he crawled onto the couch after dinner, head on her thigh and whispered he was leaving.

_You know you can come back. That I'll always take you back. You know that, right, Clarence?_

He nodded at her then, and again, at her tossed off words outside his apartment in Chicago, but he knew that she meant them. So he hugged her tight, one last time, and ignored her tears when she let him go.

He drove almost all the way to Lawrence wrapped in her scent and wondering what the hell he was doing.

He spent most of the first week in the same state, sleeping on Gabe's couch and looking for an apartment. Wondering if he had made a huge mistake and how much Ruby and Balthazar would gloat if he slunk back to Chicago and Meg.

Not too much. He was her favorite, even if Ruby was her mate.

Then he met Sam.

 

 

ii.

 

The day he met Sam was ridiculously normal. It was a Monday and Castiel was frowning at his computer when Sam walked in, carrying a cup of coffee and a little paper bag in one hand and a briefcase in the other, his hair hanging around his face and dressed for court, and smelling like heaven.

Like paper and burnt sugar and fresh cut grass and the faintest notes of coffee. Cas had to grip the desk to keep himself in place when all he wanted was to bury his nose in that scent, lick it up, rub against his mate.

And _Sam_. Sam had smiled, a little distracted and asked about Gabe of all fucking people.

He hadn't even blinked, while Castiel’s omega was screaming mate and ready to fucking _present_ , and Sam didn't care.

It drove the omega wild.

So he called Meg.

"You found your true mate?" She demanded, and Castiel could hear Ruby cackling in the background, even as Meg shoved her away and sat up. "What the fuck, Cas!"

"He doesn't want me," Castiel snapped. He was trashed and bitchy, and Meg paused for a moment, because while she was aware of how to deal with Castiel in that kind of mood, it happened rarely enough that it concerned her.

"Then find out what the hell is distracting him."

 

 

iii.

 

Sam likes to run. He always runs in the morning, a brisk but not ridiculous two-mile jog in the woods behind his apartment complex.

It makes him smell of sweat and the forest.

He has a pack, and he's close to them--surprisingly close. There’s a tiny redhead that seems to bubble around him, and a dark haired Asian with a nervous expression that Sam sometimes herds out of the apartment by will alone. A girl who doesn't live there, but is unmistakably pack, and Castiel kind of melts when he sees the way Sam's eyes warm when he sees her.

He’s always wanted the kind of close pack that Sam has and it makes him ache to watch from the outside.

Sam loves to read and enjoys expensive coffee. He is ridiculously kind, especially to the very young and the elderly. He has a wicked sense of humor that can keep up with, if not match, Gabe. He spends his lunch texting and researching things that catch his attention, eating a salad at his desk, unless Gabe chases him out of the office.

He listens to Gabe with unnerving obedience.

He likes to read fiction as much as he likes biographies, and tends toward the macabre, refuses to talk about his family, and is one of the gentlest hands with frightened omega clients that Cas has ever seen.

He’s fearless and steals Gabe’s candy stash on a regular basis.

Castiel watches it all, and he still doesn't know exactly what to do. How to make his Alpha realize that they are mates, that they are perfect for each other.

Meg's helpful response to that text confession was, **Just fucking bite him.**

Of course, Meg is an alpha. That's not a bad course for her. For him, an omega, it's a bit more complicated, even if that's what he wanted.

So he started sending gifts, leaving them where Sam could find them during his daily routine, and he watched, far enough away that he could see but not be seen.

Sam always found them. Always examined the gift with a kind of desperate interest, even going as far as sniffing it before looking around wildly, for whoever might be lurking with answers.

Castiel wanted to show himself. Wanted the Alpha to know that he was being courted by his mate.

But that wasn't the way this worked. So he waited. He watched. He left his little presents. And he waited for Sam to notice him.

But he never did.

And now Castiel knows why.


	5. Chapter 5

i.

 

"Winchester's Curiosities, how can I help you?" 

"Is--is Sam Winchester in?"

The voice reaches through the line, and _yanks_ at something deep in Dean's gut, a kind of visceral pull that draws him to a stop in the middle of the busy shop, earning him a scolding look from Kevin, running the register. It's a Wednesday, and they run a special on Wednesdays, a six dollar sandwich with coffee, and book of the week. They were always packed.

And Dean doesn't give a fuck, because the voice growling low and steady in his ear has all of his attention with nothing more than a simple question.

Wait.

"What?"

"Sam Winchester," the voice asks, and Dean almost snarls because his brother's name should not be shaped by that voice. It should be Dean's and what the _fuck_?

"Sam is at work. You can check back after three. He'll be in then." 

"He--thank you," the voice says, distracted.

"Do you want to leave a message?" Dean demands, and bags up a lunch and the brown wrapped paperback for Mrs. Kinley, sending her out the door with a distracted smile.

"No, thank you."

He hangs up, and Dean almost growls, because that fucking voice is gone. Then Kevin is snapping at him, and Charlie is yelling from the kitchen that they need more chicken salad, and for a while, Dean is too busy to think about that enticing voice that he can't quit hearing.

 

 

ii.

 

 

Sam shows up about halfway through the lunch rush, and Dean gives him a worried glance that his brother shakes off as he slides behind the counter, smiling at the cluster of beta girls. He talks them into a dozen cupcakes and a sandwich for each of them, slipping easily into the rhythm of the café. It soothes something unsettled in Dean's gut, something that's been nervous since Gabe was here this morning.

Then Krissy comes in, and she's bickering with Sam, and Charlie is barely even functioning as she boxes up sandwiches in the back. Even Kevin--his solid, reliable Kevin--is a mess of happy and distracted, yelling between customers at Krissy about school and her new boyfriend;"When the hell did _that_ happen?" "Calm down, alpha. You'll meet him this weekend."

It's still busy, but with all of them working together, it's easy too, comfortable in a way that Dean misses. The shop is full of the scent of books and food, of coffee and all the notes of his pack, and it fills him up so full that he's almost bursting, whistling as he bustles around the shop while Krissy helps Charlie clean up the kitchen after the madness of the lunch rush. 

Kevin makes them coffee as Sam and Dean reshelve the books that have been browsed through and discarded in all the wrong places. Sam was on edge when he first walked in, but he's calmer now, settled by the scent of pack and safety.

"I got these," Dean says as he snags the last small stack of books to shelve. "Go on."

Sam doesn't argue, just retreats to the front of the shop, where there are some leather couches.

The apartment is home, even if Krissy doesn't live there. But this place. This shop that smells of all the things that Dean loves and family, that he built and is responsible for. This is his nest if ever he had one. He takes a deep breath and lets it out on a happy sigh.

And then he frowns. 

Takes another breath. 

There's another note to the smell that is home and nest and family.

He inhales again and almost groans. Distantly, from the front of the store, he can hear Charlie talking to someone, her voice that slightly polite voice she uses for people who aren't pack.

A low rumble answers her and Dean shudders. A full body thing that makes his knees weak. It feels familiar, and he puts the books down, drifting slowly toward the front of the shop. 

There's a man there. He’s standing slightly awkwardly a few feet from where the pack is clustered on the couches, and he's looking at Sam with all this hope and longing in his eyes, like he wants something he can't bear to ask for. 

He's tall. Shorter than Dean by maybe an inch, with this messy hair that's pushed up and off his face, and begging to be tugged on. Lips that are chapped and pink and bitten, with scruff on his face that's a few days old, like he can't be bothered to shave. He's wearing a coat, long, tan, and rain spotted.

The alpha in Dean screams silently, this hungry, furious noise of want and need, and Dean stumbles a step, only coming to a stop because he runs into Kevin.

"Dean?" Kevin asks, his voice high and sharp.

It jerks everyone's attention to him from whatever the fuck is happening between Sam and the stranger who feels stupidly, _ridiculously_ like home.

Dean takes a few steps in, and that voice hit him again. His pack is watching Dean with wide, worried eyes, but that strange omega is still talking.

"I'm sorry. I was never trying to push you. I'm sorry that it upset you, it wasn't my intention at all. Gabe told me, and I just--I needed to apologize. I wasn't trying to push you, Sam. I just--"

"Wait," Dean says, the babble finally cutting through the haze. The omega's eyes dart to him and they go wide and surprised. " _You?_ You're the one fucking with my brother?"

The omega blinks, and Dean snarls. Because fuck this dude. Doesn't matter what the hell he smells like, how much Dean wants to drag him into the nest of pack, how much he wants to kick the pack out and knot him on the floor of his store-- _fuck_ this dick.

"You need to get the fuck out and stay away from my brother," Dean snarls.

The omega's eyes go even wider, and the noise he makes hits Dean right in the gut, a fist of pain. His alpha is screaming, all fury and rage and _nonononono_!

"Dean," Sam snarls.

But the omega is already nodding, backing away, his head dipped and tilted, just a little.

A part of Dean wonders if he realizes just how submissive he's being, if he's doing it on purpose.

What would the omega do, if Dean dragged him back, up against his body and scented his bare neck? If he rubbed against him and scent marked him, if he bit—

"I apologize," the omega whispers, his voice still heavy and gritty and dark, full of things Dean wants to explore.

Even furious, Dean won't lie to himself.

It just doesn't _matter._

The omega looks back at them again, his blue eyes flicking over Dean, and then he's gone. 

And Dean can collapse.

 


	6. Chapter 6

i.

 

The text comes late that night. Late enough that Gabe is already drinking and he should ignore it.

Of course, he doesn't, because he's never very good at doing what he should.

So when the text lights up his screen

 

**We need to talk**

 

 He immediately texts back.

 

**My place?**

 

There is barely a hiccup before the answer comes back.

 

**Be there in ten.**

 

 

ii.

 

Charlie stares at the alpha like if she stares long enough, he'll do something. Kevin and Krissy are moving around behind her, getting dinner ready. Sam is curled around his brother, whispering, an endless litany of comfort and soothing promises. This has never been a problem. Calming Dean has always been easy for Sam, effortless. It's what pack did and he was really good at it. Dean loved them all, but there was something different about the bond between the brothers. Something so deep and intrinsical to who they were, it just _was._ It didn’t bother her to be on the outside of that, because she was still pack.

If Sam couldn’t calm Dean, no one could.

It had been hours since that omega left the bookstore, and Dean fell apart in a mess of whimpering and incoherent pleading.

It had scared the hell outta Charlie. She wasn't even a little ashamed to admit that. She could smell Dean's distress and Sam's fear and that shook her. Dean and Sam were the rocks she had rebuilt her life on, when her parents died and her mate broke their bond to go find herself.

To see them broken and lost shakes her all the way to the roots, and that pisses her off. She slides a quick look to Krissy and Kevin and then slips into the bedroom. She curls on the bed next to Dean, snuggling closer until his arm comes around her, his nose pressing against her neck. Sam watches for a while, and then slips away, promising he’d be back soon.

He better be going to fix this.

She pets Dean’s hair and lets him hide against her and find comfort there.

“What do I do?” he asks, what feels like hours later.

“What do you want to do?”

He whimpers then, a noise that is so fucking broken and _omega_ it rips at her. “I want to find him.”

“Why?” she asks, scooting up and pulling him closer.

She’s a tiny thing, a head shorter and eighty pounds lighter and omega to boot, so it tells her a lot about Dean’s headspace that he allows her to manipulate him into her lap and brush back his hair, like he’s a child she’s comforting.

“Because he felt like _home_ ,” Dean whispers into her skin, and Charlie laughs. This choked half noise. Pets his hair a little faster when his scent spikes with worry and he moves to look up at her.

“When Gilda broke our bond, I felt sick. Like I was adrift. I couldn’t stay anywhere for longer than a few months, because nothing felt like home. It took finding you and the pack for me to stop feeling lost constantly.”

“Gilda was your mate, though,” Dean argues, his breath huffing against her shirt. “I don’t even know him.”

Charlie shrugs. “You don’t need to know him for the biology to be there, Dean.”

He goes silent at that, and after a while, she can feel his tears, silent and wet, pressing into her shirt as her alpha huddles in her arms.

 

iii.

 

Gabe is nervous, almost twitching on the couch when the knock comes. He cleaned up, as quickly as possible, given the amount of time he had to work with, but the place is still a mess and it still _reeks_ of him.

He never intended to shove his scent at Sam, not like this. He rubs his hands on his jeans and fixes a smirk on his face before he saunters to the door.

“Welcome to my humble abode, Samsqautch.” He grins, and then he catches Sam’s expression.

He watches it change--watches the tight fury melt right off, watches him pale as he inhales and Gabe wants to groan, because that color blooming in Sam’s cheeks—it’s because of him, because of the scent Sam is pulling in.

“Sam?”

Sam makes a noise, low and broken, and then he’s shoving Gabe into the wall behind the door and scent is forgotten because Jesus, he can _taste_ the omega.

Sam is fucking kissing him, and he tastes better than Gabe could ever imagine. For a second, as Sam presses him to the wall and his tongue tangles in Gabe’s mouth, the scent of him, the taste of him, knocks every other thought off line. There's only this, this fucking gorgeous omega who smells like heaven and tastes like warm sugar cookies and rich chocolate, and Gabe wants to drown in it. Wants to ignore everything but Sam.

He wants to strip him down and tease him open until Sam whimpers. God, he sounds so fucking pretty when he whimpers.

“Please, please, alpha,” Sam croons, rocking against him. Teeth press into his neck, worrying the skin, and it flashes white hot pleasure through him.

Gabe’s head tips back, baring his throat for the omega, and all he can do is pant, “Yeah, Sammy. Fuck. Mark me.”

Sam groans as he dips down and grinds against Gabriel, his breathing going high pitched and breathless as he thrusts against Gabe’s thigh, and then he makes this noise that Gabe will hear until his dying day, this high pitched broken little whine, and his eyes close as he presses his head into Gabe’s neck, and he comes.

Gabriel goes still as Sam slumps against him, panting against his throat, blinking. Trying to figure out what the _hell_ happened. They were supposed to talk, figure out the shit between their brothers. He opens his mouth and Sam’s tongue is there, kissing him with these lazy thrusts that scramble Gabe’s brain, rocking against Gabe in this tantalizing bump and grind that _screams_ sex, and Gabe isn't really sure why the fuck they have clothes on.

“ _Fuck_ , Gabe,” Sam whines as Gabe gets a grip on Sam's ass, dragging him close and rutting against him. He slides a hand down the back of Sam's pants and the omega whimpers, arching into him as Gabe’s fingertips glide through all that slick.

A thought occurs to him, through the haze of sex and scent, and Gabe growls.

Sam's knees buckle and isn’t that nice. His big shaggy omega on his knees, eyes dazed and hungry. It's utter perfection.

It’s everything Gabe has ever wanted. Until Sam reaches for him, his hands fumbling for Gabe’s belt, his mouth slightly open, the tip of his pink tongue caught between his teeth.

“Sam,” Gabe groans.

A big rough hand closes over Gabe’s dick and his brain short circuits as Sam swallows him down. The groan Sam lets loose is so fucking filthy, so hungry and deep, it rumbles through Gabe’s dick and drags his orgasm up and up. Gabe’s clutching Sam’s hair and gasping these hitching little noises that makes Sam fucking crazy. The taste of Gabe is driving every thought from his head, and he wants _more_.

“Sammy,” Gabe gasps, and Sam leans back on his heels, pumping his cock and staring up. 

“Come for me, alpha,” Sam snarls. It’s not an omega begging their alpha for a knot. It’s Sam, on his knees and still demanding what is his, and it’s all Gabe needs. His vision whites out and he make a noise that’s somewhere between a scream and sob as Sam pumps his cock and he comes hard and hot, pouring over Sam’s hand. Sam groans, a little noise that’s almost lost in the roaring pleasure, before he dips back down and licks over the head of Gabe’s cock, catching his come and groaning at the taste. Swallowing it down and latching on as Gabe shudders and gives up a little more.

When his legs go out, Sam is there, catching him and easing him down, straddling him as he runs a finger through the wet mess of come.

Gabe stares at him for a long time.

Now that the rush of sex is passing, he’s not sure what the fuck they should do.

So he doesn’t say anything and Sam sits there, straddling his hips and watching him with narrow eyes.

“Your brother was courting me.”

Gabe blinks. But nods. “Said you smelled like his mate.”

A growl is edging up his throat at that, because the idea of Castiel being Sam’s mate is still driving him fucking insane.

Sam’s lips curl back in an impressive snarl and fuck, that’s just a little bit hot.

“I’m not _his_ ,” Sam snarls.

“Clearly,” Gabe drawls, propping his hands behind his head. “Can’t blame the kid for having a shitty sense of smell. You reek of that alpha of yours.”

Sam’s eyes narrow and his entire body tenses. For a moment, Gabe thinks the omega will bolt. He looks as hurt as he does angry, and Gabe tenses under him.

He just got Sammy. No way in hell is he letting the omega bolt _now._

Then Sam grins, and tugs off his shirt, and Gabe’s eyes go very wide. He gets an eyefull of miles of chest and toned skin, and a flash of a black tattoo, and then Sam is rubbing Gabe’s come into his skin and--

“Sam, _don’t.”_ Gabe gasps, even as his dick twitches.

Because Sam carrying his scent? That is as bad an idea as it is hot.

Sam ignores him and rubs a little more into his chest, until all Gabe can smell is him and Sam, mixed up and so damn _right_.

“You idiot,” he breathes, staring at him.

Sam grins at him, his hazel eyes bright and content and _happy_. Jesus. He leans down and brushes his lips over Gabe’s, licking along Gabe’s lips. “Shut up, Alpha.”

And alpha or not, Gabe does as he’s told.

 

iv.

 

They clean up after a while, and Sam puts a little distance between him and Gabriel. Gabe orders Thai.

“What the fuck, Gabe,” Sam sighs, when he’s cleaned and fed, a beer in one hand and the itch to reach for the alpha sated—for the moment.

“What happened when Cas got to the bookstore?” Gabe asks, curiously.

“Dean looked like someone had hit him.” Sam frowns. “He smelled Cas, before he saw him. And I think, if Cas hadn’t been talking, apologizing, that’d be it. True mates bullshit.”

Gabe arches an eyebrow. “You don’t believe in true mates?”

“I believe that we get a choice. Omega or alpha, we get to choose who we’re with.” Sam stares at him, defiant, and Gabe swallows the snappy comeback that’s begging to slip out.

“And Dean?”

“Chose his pack,” Sam says, letting the unspoken slip away.

“Why?”

Sam gave him a flat stare, and Gabe snarls softly. “Your fucking brother needs to loosen the damn strings, Sammy.”

“He’s been my pack since I was kid, Gabe, and taking care of me since my mom died. No, he’s not gonna mark up and mate the dick omega who's been fucking stalking me for three weeks.”

Gabriel snarled again, low and wordless. Sam reaches out, one long arm, and slaps him upside the head.

“And what the fuck was that, _letting_ him?”

“Ok, I didn’t know that’s what he was doing. But someone was courting you, and yeah. You need someone, Sam. Dean won’t work as your alpha forever.”

Sam stares at him, a cold rejected feeling in the pit of his stomach. The omega in him screaming to please his alpha, to fix this, to make his alpha _happy_.

And Gabriel knows. He can smell the distress rolling off the omega, and Sam pulls away a little. “I see,” he says, coldly.

“Don’t do that.” Gabe says, ten shades of grumpy.

“If you don’t want me,” Sam starts, and Gabe barks out a laugh.

He slumps against the wall and tries to dismiss the screaming urge to drag Sam back into his lap and reassure him the omega that he’s all Gabe wants.

It’s true, but god knows he can’t say it.

“Does any of this look like I don’t want you?” Gabe asks, and he’s serious. When he’s never serious.

“Then what’s the problem?” Sam asks, young and plaintive.

“Sam,” Gabe sighs. “I can barely keep a fern alive. I forget to eat and I turn into a slut during rut, and I run when shit gets hard. I’m a shitty alpha, kid. You don’t want me.”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

i.

 

He gets drunk. It’s stupid as fuck, but he doesn’t really care at this point. He ends up at a bar on the outskirts of Lawrence, a dive that fits every damn stereotype of _this is where omegas get hurt_.

He sits his omega ass at the bar and proceeds to drink. The bartender keeps an eye on him, but it’s all steely concern, and he wonders if maybe he judged the place too quickly, because even when he starts doing shots, he’s left alone. There are a few alphas who wander too close but the bartender redirects them before Cas has a chance to worry.

It’s almost annoying. He wouldn’t mind a little distraction right. Anything that would get his mind off what a colossal fuck up this all is.

Sam, the overgrown omega, the one that smells like home in a way nothing ever has, is an _omega_ , and if Cas knows his brother at all, Gabe is in love with him.

And then there’s Dean.

Dean wants nothing to do with him. Dean took one look at him in that tiny bookstore that smelled like nest and ordered him away, practically vibrating in his fury.

The rejection hurt. He’d never felt rejected by an alpha before. Never _wanted_ one enough to feel rejection when he was rebuffed. Meg was his alpha because she didn’t demand anything from him. She teased him and made him feel safe and—

He digs out his phone and dials before he can talk himself out of it. She isn’t his pack anymore, but she’s still _Meg,_ his Meg, and he needs his friend if nothing else.

“Clarence,” she purrs.

“He doesn’t want me,” Cas says, and his voice breaks. Until he said out loud, he could pretend. He could convince himself that it was all a really fucking awful fever dream. He could pretend Dean meant something— _anything_ —else. But once it’s spoken, that’s it. It’s real. He can’t deny it anymore.

His breath catches in his throat, a broken sound like a whimper dragged out of him as he curls into the bar, and he gasps it again, “He doesn’t want me.”

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tell him that it’ll be ok. Doesn’t say that Dean is an idiot, or that there will be other alphas and that Cas is better than the fucking knothead. She doesn’t say she’s sorry.

She just listens, as his breath shakes and he falls apart, quietly, at a fucking bar, while the bartender watches and Castiel weeps.

The offer will come later.

The offer to come home to her.

And Castiel knows he’ll consider it, this time.

 

“You wanna call someone, sugar?”

It’s the beta behind the bar, looking a little concerned that he’s still here. Cas blinks at her and tries to make his lips work but they keep sticking and he swallows. Shakes his head. “No one.” 

Her lips press into a hard line of faint disapproval, and she hums under her breath, reaching for her phone. “I’m fine,” Castiel says, and even to his ears, his voice is slurred and shaking, and he wonder if he ever stopped crying, after he called Meg.

Maybe this poor woman is simply calling him a cab so he’ll quit sobbing on her fucking bar.

“I’ll feel better if I _know,_ ” she says.

Castiel sniffs, and she sets a cup of black coffee on the bar in front of him. “Drink up, honey,” she advises, and Cas makes a small, happy noise.

He ignores the fact that coffee smells like _home_.

Not his home. The alpha didn’t want him.

It’s all gotten so messy, so fast. He thought that Sam was it, was his alpha, the thing he’d never wanted, and he let himself dare to think he could have it. After thirty four years of knowing he was strange and odd and _different_ , and twenty since his first heat, accepting that he was not the omega alphas wanted to mate and pack—he let himself get caught up in a heady scent and forgot everything he knew.

He takes a sip of coffee and shivers as the phantom scent of paper and grass reaches him.

He wonders, idly, how long he’ll smell Dean and how long it will _hurt._

The bartender is perking up, “Over here, hun.” She looks at Cas. “He’s a good alpha. And he brought one of his omegas, so you’ll feel safe.” She eyes him worriedly, and Cas stares, trying to make sense of her words.

“You called an Alpha to get me home safe.”

“He’s never let me down,” she answers.

“Ellen,” a low voice says, rough and tired and oh _no._

“I don’t need a ride,” Castiel says, into his coffee.

There’s a beat of silence and then, “Too bad, Cas. Let’s go.”

 

ii.

The first time Dean got called by Ellen to pick up a wayward omega, he’d dragged Sam out with him and they’d driven the girl, a little blonde with more attitude than most Alpha’s, home to her worried sick boyfriend. They’d had a fight, and in true omega fashion, she’d cut and run rather than deal with his anger.

Dean actually liked the sassy thing, and he’d been vaguely disappointed to find she was packed and mated.

He’d been Sam’s Alpha for four years, by then, and there was a part of him that wanted more. Wanted a bigger pack, a family beyond his brother.

The second time it happened, it was Kevin Tran, and he became pack.

Over the years, it kept happening. An omega would wander in and Ellen would let them drink it out, and then call Dean and one of his omegas to see the poor sap home. He never contemplated the possibility that the omega he’d be called in to rescue would be the same one he sent away.

 

iii.

“Go away,” the omega says, staring resolutely into his empty glass.

Dean nudges Krissy away and she frowns at the alpha for a minute before she retreats to a booth. Ellen side eyes them hard, and Dean nods once, reassuring, before he takes the stool next to Castiel.

He called him Cas. Where the actual fuck had that come from? The dude wasn’t his, was sure as fuck not his _pack_ , so why the hell is he giving him a nickname like they’re gonna be family?

“What are you doin’?” Dean asks, ignoring the stirring of hunger in his gut as he taps the bar. Ellen scowls as she puts a beer in front of him, before she retreats. Dean inhales a breath of bitter booze and barley, trying to drown out the scent of paper and incense and the hint of sharp spice that makes Dean want to lean closer and sniff.

 _We don’t sniff strange omegas, dude,_ he scolds himself.

_He’s not strange. He’s Mate._

...and that’s enough talking to himself, because _clearly_ he’s not gonna get any sense.

“What do you care?” Castiel says, and Dean suppresses a shudder. The guy has a voice made for sex, all low and rough and raspy. He wonders if it gets deeper and rougher when he’s being fucked, if he whines and –

He smells the first hint of slick and jerks back. His fault. The omega is reacting to his own arousal, and that’s not fair.

“Go away, Dean,” Castiel says, tired and sounding almost painfully sober. “You don’t want me and I can’t—“

“I didn’t say that,” Dean says, before he can stop himself.

Castiel goes still and hope threads through his scent, lily bright and just as fragile, and then, “Fuck you, Winchester,” he snarls, shoving away from the bar and stumbling for the exit.

Krissy gives Dean a quick angry stare and darts after the omega, and Dean?

Dean sits there, wondering what the hell just happened and how the fuck he’s supposed to fix it.

“Get off your ass and go get him,” Ellen barks, and  Dean does as he’s told.

Beta or not, Ellen is a scary motherfucker.

 

iii.

He’s not drunk enough for this, and he’s too drunk to be smart. And he’s running, which pisses him off to no fucking end.

He doesn’t run, not from arrogant, I’m-too-good-for-you alphas that smell like fucking heaven.

“Slow the fuck down,” a grumpy, clear voice snaps and Castiel frowns down at the hand that yanks him to a stop. “Just. Stop.”

He scowls and opens his mouth to say something, and gets hit with that scent. The one that is too quickly becoming familiar—the one that is a mix of coffee and sugar, paper and ink, and the complex undertone that was _Dean_.

It’s faint, subtle in the way the scent clings to her, and he can scent her, the tart citrus scent of her lined with vanilla strong enough that he can almost dismiss the scent of Dean.

“You are his pack,” he says, dully.

This dark hair girl with a mole on her face and sharp edged smile, this girl can call Dean hers, and he—

“He’s like my brother, Castiel. You need to understand that about Dean. He lives for the pack—especially Sam. And he spent the past month freaking out because someone was stalking his brother. His _pack_. And then he finds out it’s you—and it doesn’t matter how much he might want you, he’s gonna push you away because you hurt Sam. You scared Sam.”

“That was never my intent.”

“Dean doesn’t really care about intent,” Krissy says, giving him a sympathetic smile. “He cares about what actually happens.”

Castiel stares at her for a long moment, and then, “What do I do?”

She takes the phone from his hand, and keys in a number, saving it and then adding a second. “That’s Dean. And me. Take it slow. Give him time.”

“He doesn’t want me,” Castiel says, his voice low and dull.

“Dean has never wanted anything but his pack. And like it or not, that’s you. I should know, the dick wouldn’t leave me alone when he decided I was his.”

Her voice is fond and tart, and there’s a thread of sweet warmth in her that speaks of a deep love.

It’s irrational to be jealous of that.

But he is.

“Get in the car, dude. Let the alpha have this.”

“I don’t want him.” She doesn’t respond to that, doesn’t call him on the blatant lie. She just shrugs.

“That’s fine, but I’m the one who has to go home with him and deal with his grumpy ass when you walk home and worry him. Do it for me.”

 

iv.

Krissy is a meddlesome little witch, and Dean catches her grin, sly and too pleased, when he drops her off first—it’s on the way, alpha, think—leaving him with a still drunk, pouting omega, and a smug sense of accomplishment. They're silent as Dean drives through the dark streets, and he breathes carefully, trying very hard to inhale the cold wind blowing in through Baby's open window, and not the sweet scent of the omega sitting next to him.

"I was apologizing," Castiel says, finally, into the dark silence of the car. "That's why I was at the bookstore. I had just realized--"

"You just figured out my brother was a fucking omega?" Dean's voice is sharp and dismissive, insulting.

"He wears blockers," Cas snaps. "Just like every alpha in omega rights law. Why the hell would I assume he was anything but an alpha? He certainly looks the part of an alpha."

Dean makes a pained noise. "Dude, don't talk about my brother like that when you smell like _this_."

Castiel goes silent and Dean does too, biting his tongue because what the hell, he wasn't supposed to say that, not to a bratty omega with boundary issues.

It's only after Dean's parked the Impala, and is tapping his finger against the steering wheel, that Cas speaks. "You think I smell good?"

Dean throws him a look that fairly screams his response to that, and shoves out of the car, waiting for Cas to emerge. "What are we doing?" Cas asks, head tilted in question, climbing out of the car, blue eyes shining in the darkness.

He smells so fucking sweet and perfect, and holding himself like that, still and patient and just slightly submissive--

Dean slams into him, shoving him against the car and catches his mouth with a hungry kiss.

And Castiel meets him. He surges up to it, drags Dean down with a hand in his hair and his mouth open wide, a needy moan spilling out as the scent of arousal and slick swell, overwhelming everything.

Dean was drowning in it--in the way Castiel's body sways into his, arching up in a sweet offering. In the wet slick of his tongue against Dean's and the sharp sting of teeth biting down on Dean's lip. In the fingers digging into Dean's shoulders, and the roll of Cas's hips, and the thick scent of slick that has Dean begging to taste it.

To taste _him_.

"This doesn't change anything," he gasps against Cas's mouth, pushing him harder against the Impala and Cas moans, this broken thing.

His hands are fighting the shove of Dean's hip and the alpha snarls, teeth digging into the soft skin of Cas's neck, until long nimble fingers wrap around him and he whines this aching needy noise that makes Cas laugh, breathless against him.

"Want you, alpha," he pants against Dean's lips and then he does something that shocks the hell outta the omega.

He grabs Dean by the hips and spins them, slamming Dean into the car by weight and strength and fucking _holds_ him there with one hand and a kiss, the other busy unzipping Dean's jeans and pulling his cock out.

Later, Cas might think about it. He might think about the way Dean looks, pressed against the car, all of his alpha strength held there by Cas's hand. About the curve of his cock, and the gleam of precome in the darkness, about the gasp Dean gives, when he hits his knees, and takes Dean's cock in his mouth, tiny kitten licks at the cockhead that send Dean's hands into Cas's hair, before sinking down on him, taking all of that impossible length, and dragging up a choked moan.

Later, he'll think of all of that, and what it meant that he didn't care that he was on a public street in front of his brother's house. All that matters now, though, is Dean, his voice a broken croon in Cas's ear, panting and hungry and wanting, Dean's cock in his mouth, the weight of it so fucking perfect he's _aching_ for it, for the press of it against his ass and deeper. He groans around Dean as slick swells and seeps from him, his entire being primed to be held down and mated, swallows hard around his cock as one hand finds fumbles for the base of it, massaging Dean's swelling knot.

And that's it.

That's all it takes.

The alpha snarls, his voice so distorted that Cas can barely recognize his name, and jerks him back and up by his hair.

Cas is ready, and shoves shirt up, just enough that Dean’s coming on bare skin, the heat of it causing Dean to thrust up against Cas's hip. One hand holds him still for the kiss Dean's pressing against his neck, and the other....

The other dips low, sinks into Cas's pants, into the wet slick waiting for him. Fingers brush against him, and Cas screams as Dean shoves inside, burying his fingers in Cas as slick seeps around him. He comes like that, while Dean is still wet and hard against his belly, his face buried in Dean's throat and all he can smell is

home.

mate.

 _pack_.


	8. Chapter 8

i.

It’s strange.

Not that he let Cas get him off against his car, let the omega play him like a fiddle.

Not even that Sam came home with a defiant gleam in his eye and reeking of Gabe and _ew._

No, what was strange was that he wanted more.

He wanted Cas.

It was his dirty little secret that the entire fucking pack knew, because Dean was shit at keeping secrets.

He wanted Cas and couldn’t reconcile that with what he knew –fucking _knew_ —Cas had done to Sam.

Sam told him, on more than one occasion that he was being ridiculous.

And maybe he was.

But he had always chosen his family. His pack. He had chosen Sam. He chose them all. With Cas, he felt like his choice was stripped away. There was Cas and scent and instinct.

That wasn’t the kind of alpha he was.

It wasn’t the kind of alpha he wanted to be.

 

ii.

The first time Dean saw a scent bond at work was when he was in the Roadhouse. He was there, trying to drag his dad out. John was drunk again, and Dean was trying to drag him home.

Jo was wiping down the bar and watching Dean wrestle with John. She was Sam’s age, had presented maybe six months earlier, fiercely independent and dead set on going into the Air Force when she graduated. She’d talked about it since she was six and her father was killed in the line of duty.

Then Ash walked into the bar, a laid back omega with the ugliest mullet Dean had ever seen and a scent that was all beer and patchouli.

Dean watched it happen. Watched Jo’s eyes go glazed and hungry, watched Ash narrow in on her, his smile inviting, watched all of Jo’s dreams and plans get swept aside as she threw herself headlong into a mating bond.

She ran away, two weeks later, when Ellen refused to let Jo mate the drifter, and she stayed gone for two years. When she came home, it was with a pup and an alpha who seemed more interested in getting high than what Jo’s dreams had been.

It ripped out an essential part of Jo. A part that Dean loved. After watching his father destroy himself over the death of his mate, and Jo throw away herself for a scent bond he decided—

 _No_. That wasn’t what he wanted.

Biology be damned. He got to choose.

 

iii.

Castiel stared at the phone.

**Get to know him.**

That was what Krissy ordered, when she texted him that Dean was being impossible and he needed to get his alpha under control.

Cas’s protest that Dean _wasn’t_ his alpha went completely unheeded.

Sam lands in the desk chair next to him and Cas flinches.

“You talked to him yet?” Sam asks.

It’s been three weeks since everything came to light, since the night he pinned Dean to the Impala, since he’d last seen the alpha.

He’d learned a few things in those weeks. Sam was surprisingly likable, when Cas was able to divorce him from that still intoxicating scent.

Dean’s pack consisted of three omegas and a beta.

They were all fiercely protective of their alpha, but for some reason, Krissy liked him.

Sam had a habit of feeding the office—a habit that had once been reserved for Gabe and now included him.

And Dean had shitty grammar when it came to texts.

_Make sure Sam takes a lunch break today. You too._

Cas’s lips twitch in a small smile. Maybe the habit of feeding people stemmed from his alpha and not Sam.

**Hello, Dean.**

_You get that brief done?_

**I did. How was your evening?**

_Boring. I thought this cute omega was gonna keep me company but he blew me off for work._

A flush works it’s way up Cas’s cheeks. Three weeks and he still wasn’t used to the casual flirting that marked almost everything Dean said to him.

**I did apologize.**

_Teasing, Cas. What are your plans for the weekend?_

He pauses.

**I thought I might go to Chicago. My alpha would like to see me.**

There’s a pause, long enough that Cas thinks maybe Dean is busy with the shop, and he slips the phone away, turning his attention to an upcoming hearing.

Sam nudges him maybe ten minutes later. “Dude, answer your phone.”

Castiel frowns. “It’s not ringing.”

“Your cell, Cas,” Sam says patiently, giving him a bright grin before turning away.

Flushing, Castiel tugs it out and glances at it. As always when at work, it’s silenced.

There are four unread texts and three missed calls and his heart skips a beat.

All from Dean. He opens them.

_Your alpha? I thought Gabe was your pack._

_I don’t know how I feel about you having an alpha, ha._

_Cas?_

_Hey man, you can’t drop that on me and then go silent._

Castiel frowns at the phone. There is something tense and off about the texts. After three weeks, Castiel knows that Dean is loose and happy in texts, except when he’s very tired or drunk. He knows that the alpha has shitty grammar and no filter when he’s drinking, and a self-deprecating sense of humor that is vaguely worrisome. He knows Dean will text incessantly when watching a favorite movie or TV show, and that he likes to send snapshots from his day. He knows that he worries about his pack constantly, something that threw Castiel off, because Meg never did and Gabe doesn’t know _how_.

He knows that Dean is sweet in the morning and funny at night and has a pop culture reference that Cas rarely understands almost every time he opens his mouth, and that he likes reading and old cars and has an almost unhealthy obsession with pie.

He knows what he sounds like when Dean comes, and that it takes three days and four suggestive texts to make the man horny enough to jerk off while Cas sends dirty encouragement.

He knows that Dean sleeps naked and misses his mother and is afraid that he will be a bad alpha and doesn’t like Krissy’s new boyfriend and that there is a waif lingering around the shop that Dean is thinking about adopting.

He even knows that Dean is allergic to cats and distrustful of dogs, after he was attacked by a pack while riding his bike home when he was eleven.

And he knows, theoretically, that Dean can be jealous. He is an alpha, after all, even if Cas sometimes forgets.

This though. This feels almost hurt.

**I apologize. I was working. My former pack—the alpha was my best friend growing up. I miss her.**

_Why did you leave?_

That is a heavy question. Maybe more than Cas wants to get into over a text message when he has a client coming in for a consultation in twenty minutes.

**Maybe I’ll tell you over dinner one night.**

There is silence, the same silence that comes every time Cas suggests they see each other.

Dean likes to flirt, and he likes to laugh. He even likes sexting.

But it’s been three weeks, and the scent of him has long since faded from Castiel’s skin, and Dean still refuses to see the omega.

 

iii.

He stares at the phone for a long time, at the invitation that is just the right side of subtle.

And he wants to take him up on it.

Instead, he texts simply.

_Maybe._

Cas doesn’t respond and for a few hours, Dean can forget him, can focus on the rhythm of the shop and the flow of customers coming in. He can focus on all the things he does well and right, and not the smart, sassy omega that he wants to drag into his bed and his life.

It works, kind of, until Sam gets home.

He smells like pack and agitation and the undercurrents of brass and blood he’s come to associate with Gabe.

“Thought you were keeping shit professional at the office.”

“Thought you were gonna give Cas a chance.”

Dean opens his mouth to respond, and Sam gives him a grumpy stare. “You can’t be jealous he’s going to see his alpha if you also refuse to Claim him.”

“I barely know the guy,” Dean protests weakly.

Sam doesn’t argue. He retreats to his bedroom, and comes back showered and smelling more like pack than Gabe, and it settles some of Dean’s nerves as he dishes up blackened chicken alfredo for them both. He gives Sam a big bowl of salad and himself a big slice of garlic bread, checks his phone once more—Castiel still hasn’t texted since this morning—and then follows his brother into the dining room.

What would it be like, if Castiel were here, wearing his mating bite and taking up the empty space between Sam and Dean at the table?

“You ever think about mating?” Dean asks, staring at that damn empty seat, and Sam chokes on his wine.

Dean winces. He probably should have not just thrown it out there like that, all apropos of absolutely nothing, and incriminating as hell.

“Sometimes,” Sam says, and Dean blinks.

His brother isn’t giving him shit for that question? Dean side eyes him briefly and Sam shrugs.

“I think some people can’t help but make us think of mating.” Sam says, slowly. He twists his wine glass and shrugs, smiles. “We’re biologically wired to want that.”

“But we’re more than biology.”

“Obviously. If all we were was biology, I’d be mated and carrying Gabe’s pup,” Sam says, casual as fuck, and Dean’s eyes bug out a little.

That...

That is a scary fucking thought.

“Do you want it?” he asks, because scary or not, he’s Sam’s alpha, and being a good alpha means being aware of what the kid wants.

Even if that makes his stomach turn.

“Sometimes. I mean, he feels right, Dean. No one ever felt like he does.”

Dean looks at his brother, and his heart hurts a little. Because he’s losing the kid, and he’s not ready for that.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready for that.

Still. He takes a deep breath. “Let’s do a double date.”

Sam’s eyes are  wide and startled, a little hopeful and Dean nods. Smiles. “Call him. I’ll text Cas.”

 

iv.

Castiel stares at his closet, and lets out another huff of displeasure. If Gabe is counting right—and he is—that’s the fifth in four minutes, and he still hasn’t progressed to actually picking clothes.

“Black jeans. Blue tshirt—the one from the concert last year, and a black flannel.”

Castiel frowns at his brother. “I want to look good,” he protests.

“No, you want to get Dean’s attention. Dressing up isn’t going to do anything but overwhelm him. Jeans, tshirt, flannel. Hurry up, they’ll be here soon.”

Castiel scowls, but he grabs the clothes and steps into the shower. Ten minutes later, he emerges, skin pink, hair wet and spiky and messy, jeans tight and tshirt a little damp and sticking to him. He’s bouncing on one foot as he tugs his sock on.

He freezes when he gets a scent of the room, and slowly straightens.

Dean smells, if possible, even better than he had that day by the Impala. It’s stronger, and he’s wearing some scent, a light one that smells like smoke and enhances his natural alpha scent.

And Cas is still standing, one foot cocked off the ground, in his socks.

He’s not sure, but this is probably the way he’ll die--in his frumpy, mismatched socks and wet messy hair, staring at the alpha that should have been his, dying from embarrassment.

“Excuse me,” he says, his voice stiff, and turns on one foot—slipping just a little when the sock decides to betray him further—before vanishing into his room.

_I can live in my room the rest of my life, can’t I?_

The text is sent before he can consider that Meg will _crucify_ him for this particular blunder, and he groans, dropping his head in his hands.

There’s a gentle tap on the door and then Dean pushes it open, and Cas _still_ only has one sock   on.

“Go away,” he says, glumly.

“You know we’re gonna be late if you don’t move it.”

“’I think I’ll stay here,” Cas says, stiffly.

Dean smiles, and eases a few steps deeper into the room, tugging the sock still in Castiel’s hand free and crouching to ease it on his foot.

Cas stares, shocked beyond belief at the sight of the alpha on his knees in front of him.

“We can stay here, if you want, but I’d like to spend the evening with you. So. You decide. Are we going out or we gonna hide in your bed and watch movies?”

That makes his breath catch for a completely different reason, and he sees the hunger darken Dean’s eyes before the alpha groans and shifts away.

“Come on, little omega. I promised you a date, and you promised me a story.”

Cas lets Dean tug him to his feet, and follows him from the room, to where Sam and Gabe are waiting. It doesn’t even bother him, that ridiculous nickname that Dean used on him.

 

v.

Castiel is adorable. It’s something Dean can’t get over, as he glares at his socks and fumbles with his ridiculous trench coat. While he sits stiff and unmoving in the passenger side of the Impala as Gabe practically mauls Sam in the backseat. Even when he’s sitting pressed against the corner of the booth, as far from Dean as possible while sharing such a small space, his eyes wide and a little panicked, and his scent a confusing mix of fear and _want_ , he’s adorable _._

Then the waitress, a pretty little beta with dark hair and darker eyes, swings by and delivers a couple of fruity things for Gabe and Castiel that makes Gabe smile and Cas frown. “Gabriel,” he starts, and Gabe points.

“Don’t bother, bucko. You love these damn things. Now be a good boy and drink your girly drink.”

Castiel bares his teeth and snarls, and the alpha laughs. Plucks his cherry from the nauseatingly pink drink and holds it out.

All of Castiel’s petulance vanishes and he practically snatches it from his older brother.

The alcohol loosens Castiel up, and the fruit that the waitress brings from the bar makes him light up with this ridiculously pleased smile.

How any grown man can be that fucking excited over a bowl of sugary cherries is completely beyond Dean, but he files it away for later, and catches Gabe’s fond smile as he watches his brother and flirts with Sam.

It’s sometime between ordering their dinner and Castiel’s third drink that he feels the omega shifting in his seat, scooting slightly toward Dean, watching him from the corner of his big blue eyes.

Sam and Gabe are occupied with something that involves a lot of low whispers, giggles and hands where he can’t see, which means he _definitely_ doesn’t want to know, so he tilts his head toward his omega and murmurs, “You promised me a story.”

Cas eyes him, and leans over, invading his space until all he can see is bright blue and all he can smell is sweet incense and burnt paper. Fuck.

“Do you want a story, Dean, or would you like to tell me what we’re doing?”

He blinks, and says, dumbly, “We’re having dinner.”

Castiel snarls.

Why the _fuck_ that’s hot is beyond him. He’s never liked submissive omegas, but he likes them at least a _little_ agreeable.

Cas though--Cas shoved him around. Cas saw what he wanted and had no problem going after it. Cas glared and argued and tilted his head to the side in a curious stare that bared his throat and didn’t for a single second feel submissive.

And he hopped around in mismatched socks, and blushed, and got excited over books and cherries.

“Why did you go into omega rights?” Dean asks, and Cas blinks, pulling away a little. Dean hooks an arm around his neck, holding him close and almost sighs when Castiel lets all that tension go, relaxes in this delicious wave against him.

“I got lucky. I had good parents, and Meg was a good alpha, after I presented. But I saw a lot of omegas, especially in school, who weren’t so lucky. Who lived under pack law, and it was just another leash. I wanted to change that.” He bites his lip and shrugs. Something angry and defiant sparks in his eyes. “My best friend growing up was an omega. Her father mated her to the alpha son of his business partner, even though Anna was scent bonded to my older brother. It was hell watching that bond break and watching her break with it.”

Dean’s mouth is dry, and he can feel the distress coming off Cas in waves. He tugs him closer, just a hair’s breath, and the omega nestles against him, shivering. “What happened?”

“Anna killed herself, after she was mated, and bred. She lost the pup and a few weeks later, she was dead.” Gabriel says flatly. Somewhere during the conversation, they drew Gabe and Sam’s attention, and the alpha’s golden gaze is cold and concerned as he watches his brother.

“He killed her,” Cas says, furiously. Gabe sighs, and Castiel jerks out of Dean’s grasp. “You _know_ he did.”

“I do. But it didn’t matter. She was his omega. Pack and mate, there wasn’t shit a lawyer could do, and I wasn’t. I was a law student, and my pack claim on her was always tenuous. You know that.”

Sam inhales sharply, staring at the alpha in shock. Cas collapses back against the booth, and Dean exchanges a quick look with Sam. Is that what John would have done, if Dean hadn’t claimed Sam, so long ago?

“Cas,” Gabe starts, and there is old guilt in his voice that is disturbing.

“I want to go,” Cas says abruptly, shoving at Dean. For a second, he’s frozen and Castiel glares, all fierce anger and frowns, and he moves. “I’ll see you at home, Gabriel.” He says stiffly, and Dean gives his brother a wide eyed stare before Castiel snatches up his hand and drags him out of the restaurant.

“Dude,” Dean huffs.

“I don’t want to be here,” Cas says and his teeth chatter a little.

His scent is swelling this hot, angry thing that makes Dean’s heart pound.

“Cas,” Dean starts.

“I don’t want to think about this,” he says, and it’s a plea, his eyes big and begging and Dean nods.

“Ok, Cas. Ok.”


	9. Chapter 9

i.

The date ends on a sour note. It’s not Sam’s fault. It's that Castiel stirred up all the ugly memories Gabe’s spent years running from. And Sam might not know why he's suddenly moody and withdrawn, but the omega notices immediately that something is wrong. He doesn't press as they finish dinner and leave without dessert, although Sam does eye him carefully when Gabe passes on the triple chocolate brownie.

“I'll get you a taxi home,” Gabriel says, following the omega out of the restaurant. Sam turns to him catching the alpha by the sleeve. “Talk to me,” he says, and it's an invitation and a plea. It's soft and gentle and so _omega_ that it soothes Gabe’s anger.

He sighs and steps toward Sam. “I don't really wanna talk, Samsquatch.”

Sam nods. “Ok.”

Gabe frowns at him but Sam's already turning away, opening the cab door and sliding in. Playing the part of omega perfectly and waiting for Gabe to follow.

Gabriel does, because it's Sam, and even when logic says he should walk away, he can't seem to make himself listen.

He's not really sure what he's expecting when they reach his apartment. Last time Sam was here, they all but fucked in the hallway. For a single moment, as he holds the door open and Sam glides into his space, he entertains the idea that it might happen again.

Sam gives him an amused smirk, and Gabe grins, wide and too innocent.

“Go sit,” Sam orders, nudging him toward the couch. “Put something on for us to watch.”

Gabe watches as the giant omega pads into his kitchen, listens to him rattling around in there for a few minutes before he does as he was told and retreats to the couch.

He puts on Looney Towns, and relaxes against the cushions. Sam comes in a few minutes later with a giant mug of hot chocolate, and he grins at the cartoon but he doesn't object.

He just curls next to Gabe, slumping low enough that he can push his head into the curve of Gabe’s shoulder as they watch cartoons and drink cocoa.

Gabriel wishes like hell that he could keep this.

 

ii.

It's strange. It feels, almost, like being with Dean. It's comfortable and easy, to sit together until he falls asleep, lulled by the rise and fall of Gabe’s chest, and the comfortable scent of chocolate and Gabe and home.

He wakes up alone, covered in a blanket that smells familiar and the scent of coffee rising thick and warm in the apartment. He stretches with a low groan and he can almost hear Gabe’s smile when the alpha drawls, “Morning, moose.”

Sam shoves hair out of his eyes and scowls up at the other man. “Time is it?”

“Little after ten. Your brother texted you a while ago.”

Gabe ducks back into the kitchen and emerges with a cup of coffee. Sam shuffles up into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes and squinting. He makes a happy noise when Gabe offers up the coffee and for a time, they're quiet together, drinking coffee and peaceful. And then Sam sets aside his cup and leans forward, catching Gabe by the back of the neck and dragging him in, brushes his lips gently over Gabe’s.

They haven't talked about that night. They haven't talked about the bruise on Gabe’s throat or the way Sam carried his scent.

They definitely haven't talked about the way Sam corners him every time either mark begins to fade, crowding him with heavy kisses and the sweet scent of slick, until both of them are marked again and Sam walks away with smug satisfaction.

They haven't talked about a lot of things. As he holds the small alpha still and kisses him with gentle care, he knows that’s coming to end.

Gabe leans back, and his eyes are sad and tired. He knows it too.

“I don’t want to do this,” Gabe says.

“Then don’t,” Sam says simply. Because it’s simple. It’s easy. To be together takes nothing at all. It’s as easy as last night and this morning, as easy as their time in the office together, as easy, Sam sometimes thinks, as breathing.

It doesn’t have to be hard.

Gabe gives him a sad smile. “Kiddo,” he says, slowly.

And Sam moves. He catches the alpha and drags him close, until Gabe is draped over him, and Sam’s hands are in his hair, nipping at his lower lip and licking into his mouth. Gabe is stiff and distant--almost cold--against him for a heartbeat, and then, with a low needy noise, he surges forward, thrusting against Sam, and taking the noises the omega spills out. His hands find Sam’s shoulders and his nails dig in, just enough that Sam hisses and arches into the smaller man.

It’s messy and desperate, and it won’t last. Sam knows it, and so does Gabe. But for the moment.

Sam pulls back, and his bright, shifting eyes are clear when he says, “Want you to fuck me.”

They’ve had hand jobs and blow jobs, and rutted against each other, and there was one particularly memorable time that Gabe bent Sam over his desk after work and ate him out until Sam came in wet messy waves on his shiny desk, these dark heady moans filling the room and almost overwhelming the noise of Gabe’s mouth on him.  The one thing they haven't done--that Gabe hasn't allowed, even when Sam begged for it--was fuck.

Sam knew it had something to do with Gabe’s reluctance to commit.

He kisses Gabe now, hard and begging, and whispers the words into his mouth.

_Please. Please, Gabe, please._

Gabe’s hands on his belt shock him silent, but he's with the program enough that when Gabe tugs, he lifts his hips and let's the alpha pull his jeans and boxers down. He shifts, jerking his shirt off, and blinks at the older man, watching him with careful golden eyes.

“Are you sure, Sam? It-it won't change anything.”

And he knows that. He does. But he wants this anyway.

Gabe leans over him, kissing him softly as Sam works his sleep pants down narrow hips and drags him close again.

Every time before, they've been all desperation and rough touches. It was always about claiming and marking and _need._

This, though.

 _This_ is gentle, Gabe soothing the panting omega with careful hands stroking over his sides, over the delicate bones of his ankles and up over the rough hair of his legs. Until Sam is panting, writhing as Gabe licks his way down and down, over his thick cock, smiling at the tiny gasps he can't choke off. When he licks over Sam’s pink hole, the omega whines, a high pitched noise of want and protest.

“Don't,” he says.

“Sam, you need me to--”

“Don't want it. Wanna feel you, Gabe.”

Gabriel makes a noise, slightly pained, and surges up.

Sam screams when Gabe thrusts inside him. Even with slick easing the way, it's tight and stretches him, stealing his breath and forcing his eyes closed. He can hear Gabe, at a distance, can hear the soft litany of his name and meaningless babble, but there isn't anything but _Gabriel--_ in him, stretching and filling him, the swell of his knot teasing at his rim.

“Fuck, Gabe, _move,”_ Sam snarls, rolling his hips up, and the alpha huffs a laugh against Sam's throat.

He bites down lightly on the curve of Sam’s shoulder, just enough that Sam bucks up against the alpha, and murmurs, “Bossy little omega.”

Then he pushes himself up and he fucks him. It’s just the way Sam wants, quick brutal thrusts, that has Sam almost sobbing as he thrusts up to meet him.

It's fast and dirty and perfect. It's the rough burn melting into liquid pleasure and the scent of slick and honey sweet desire. It's sugar cookies and sweat and Sam's heels digging into Gabe’s back, urging him on, and Gabe’s hands holding Sam down, hard enough to bruise.

It's fierce and everything he wanted and when Sam sobs and arches up, Gabe leans down, offering his throat for Sam and whispers harshly, “Do it.”

Sam doesn't hesitate. He snarls and bites down, hard enough to break the skin and Gabe shudders, his knot swelling as Sam spasms and comes between them, teeth still latched in his skin, marking and Claiming. He groans and tries to pull away, but Sam rolls them and grinds down, dragging a curse from Gabe as his knot catches and swells, tying them together. Sam's eyes go wide and his thumb brushes the mark on Gabe’s throat as the alpha comes in him.

It won't last. He knows it won't. But Gabe is _his_ and for now, that is enough.

 

iii.

It's easy, after the date. They spend the night together, curled up in Dean's couch, trading lazy kisses and half watching the cooking show Dean put on. Even with nothing else happening, it still feels right, a kind of happy, peaceful contentment that he only ever gets with his pack.

It's not just that he wants Cas. Because he does, ridiculously. He woke next to him with a raging hard on and the scent of omega and Cas in his nose, and had to squeeze out of the omega’s embrace to lock himself in the bathroom and jack himself off, slow and languid, almost dreamlike, as he came in great waves of pleasure, hand wrapped around his cock and massaging his knot, the scent of his omega everywhere.

It's after, when he's cleaned up and sprayed some blocker to cut the scent of sex that he thinks that through.

He got off thinking about _his omega._

And it wasn't just Cas’s scent. It was everything about him, the way he fit into Dean's life so perfectly, the way he made Dean laugh and befriended Sam and didn't put up with any shit. It was _Cas_.

It was what he _wanted,_ scent bond be damned.

That thought made a smile cross his face and he was smiling still when he emerged from the bathroom.

Cas has curled into a ball on the couch, a spiky haired ball of warm skin and sweet scent and everything Dean ever wanted.

He wakes him with a kiss and he kinda loves the fierce scowl it earns him, the baleful glare that only fades when Dean offers him a cup of coffee.

When he's finished it and is halfway through his second, Dean asks the question.

“Do you want to meet the pack?”


	10. Chapter 10

 

i.

Kevin stared at the text for a long time, nerves running through his gut.

_Pack night tonight. The shop._

Dean was alpha, something Kevin submitted to without much complaint. He was a good alpha who didn't demand anything, gave of himself constantly and, despite his tendency to hover like an over anxious mother, he's a good boss, a great friend, and a better alpha.

And he's pretty sure that's over now.

Charlie lands on the couch next to him. “You look like you just ran out of lives before the final boss fight,” she says, observant as ever.

He shrugs and tries to tuck away his fear. But it's Charlie.

“Dean isn't gonna cut and run because he gets mated, Kev,” she says gently. “Not every alpha abandons their pack.”

No. Not every alpha. But _his_ did. It had made him wonder just what the hell was wrong with him. Most days, it was easy to stay busy, to bury himself deep enough in work and classes, in books and debates with Sam and gaming with Charlie, that he didn't feel so _defective._

But _this_ \--ever since that omega stepped in their shop, he's known change was coming. That it was inevitable. The bond between Dean and Castiel was so strong even the pack could sense it, a living thing between them.

And he fought it, of course he did. He was a good alpha, devoted to the brother Castiel unknowingly stalked.

But all of them knew it was a matter of time.

He couldn't even begrudge Dean his mate. That wouldn't be fair and it would be shitty.

But.

He could be quietly afraid as he waited for seven o’clock.

 

ii.

Castiel didn't like new people. It wasn’t because he didn't _like_ them. But because he was himself a strange and awkward person, and he didn't relate well to others.

Most of the time he didn't care. Meg and her mismatched pack was close enough to family, Gabe was there, and he was content to be quietly alone. That was before Dean.

Before he realized how lonely being alone was and how much he really hated it.

Before he realized how much his alpha valued his pack.

And now he’s sitting in the front seat of Dean’s big black Impala, parked in front of the bookstore, with hot pizza in his lap, and he can’t move.

“You ok, Cas?” Dean asks, his green eyes warm and excited.

And he nods, a quick nervous jerk of his head that makes Dean’s gaze soften. “Nah, you really aren’t. Talk to me, buddy. What’s going on?”

“What if they don’t like me?” Cas blurts out, all of his fear wrapped up in that one question.

“Do you think they won’t?” Dean asks, curiously.

“I think a lot of people don’t,” Castiel says honestly, running a finger over the blunt edge of the pizza box.

“If they don’t, we’ll figure it out. But, Cas. Sweetheart. They’re going to love you.”

Cas gives him a look from the corner of his eye, and asks, “How do you know?”

“Because I love you. They’re bound to.”

Without waiting for Castiel to respond, Dean pushes out of the Impala and starts toward the shop. For a few heartbeats, the omega sits frozen in the dark passenger seat, staring and trying to wrap his head around the fact that Dean just said he loved him.

Dean grins at him from the door of the shop, and Castiel scrambles out to follow him.

 

iii.

The new omega, Kevin finds, is quiet and shy. He carries three large pizza’s in and hovers a half step behind Dean, so close they’re almost touching. Krissy glides forward, and sends Dean a quick scowl. “Don’t make the omega carry things, Alpha.”

“If I didn’t, he might still be sitting in the car.” Dean grinned, slinging an arm around Cas’s shoulders and tugging him deeper into the room. Charlie bounds up, squealing in excitement and fingers sticky with frosting. “Oh my _god_ , I can’t believe you’re finally here,” she says. Cas falters, a tentative smile twisting his lips as Charlie bounces in place. “Dude, Dean has been a _mess._ Let’s agree we won’t do that again, ok? The rest of us have to deal with his shit while mom and dad fight, and it’s _not_ pleasant. Oh! Come with me, I gotta finish the cookies.”

The rapid fire babble is delivered so quick, Cas has barely blinked before he’s being dragged away by the small redhead.

Krissy and Charlie like him. Sam does too. And Dean is grinning, this wide wild smile that makes Kevin hurt.

He’s not bonded to Dean the way the girls are. They’re omegas to Dean’s alpha, and fill that need in him that betas don’t, that they just can’t.

Betas aren’t the emotional shitstorm that alphas and omegas are. He’s steady where the others are emotional and messy, order where they are chaos. It helps, because he’s got the ambition to be the best at everything he does and the natural inclination for the hard work and details to make that a reality. It’s why he’s so good at the store, why he’s the one who inevitably makes the grocery list and files bills to be paid for both apartments.

But where the girls and Sam might accept Castiel because he’s a nervous omega and that riles all of their instincts to protect and pack, Kevin watches him with quiet reserve.

“You don’t like him,” Dean says, leaning against the counter next to his youngest packmate.

Kevin makes a face. “I don’t dislike him. I’m wondering where he fits.”

Dean cocks his head. “The pack growing isn’t something that’s bad for us.”

Kevin looks away, busying himself with pouring coffee and finding the bottle of whiskey he stole from Dean a few weeks ago.

He doesn’t want to like the omega, because change is dangerous.

It’s burned him in the past.

But when Cas comes to him with a cookie just the right side of burnt, and a slice of pizza from the veggie supreme they get for Kevin and Sam, and a shy query about his classes, Kevin thinks he might not have a fucking choice.

The new guy is kinda wonderful, in his awkward, too serious way.

 

iv.

Sam is late. He knows it but he still hesitates when he reaches the bookstore. Charlie is sitting on the couch, crammed in with Castiel and a greasy plate. Kevin is laughing from the floor and Krissy leans against him with a smirk that is as familiar as the sound of Baby’s engine.

This is familiar and comfortable, and today more than normal, he needs that. He takes a deep breath, and steps inside.

Charlie grins up at him, “Hey, Sam, you’re--” She freezes, and the sound that fills the room makes Sam flinch. He doesn’t want to do this. Not really. Even Krissy--unshakable, steady Krissy--looks frightened as Dean growls.

“Dean, don’t,” Sam says, tired, shrugging out of his coat.

“Where is he?”

Sam pauses, the rest of the pack forgotten as they glare at each other. Because they were pack first and forever. Dean’s been his family in every way since he was born, and has been the family that counted since he was old enough to know what the hell family meant.

Family is what you chose.

It’s the pack you get to pick.

He straightens and can feel his brother searching his throat for the Mark he can smell but not see.

“He’s my choice, Dean,” Sam says, his voice very firm.

“Sam,” Dean starts.

“He’s pack.”

The words land strange and awkward in the room and Castiel feels the breath rush from him.

Alphas claim pack. Omegas don’t. They don’t waltz into the pack gathering smelling of a mating bond, demanding pack rights.

Castiel inhales again, and his heart pitches. He has a shitty sense of smell—it’s what led to all of the mess that landed them here, after all—but he knows that scent.

He _knows_ that scent.

“Sam,” he breathes, scrambling out of the nest of packmates, until he’s flanking his alpha, curving into him when Dean draws him closer. “What did Gabe do?”

He smiles, this small, unspeakably sad thing. “We don’t all get the happy ending, guys. But he’s mine. _This_ is mine.”

 

v.

Gabriel is shivering. Maybe letting the Moose wander in by himself was a bad idea.

He can feel him, a pulse as familiar as a heartbeat in the Mating bond.

His inner alpha is still screaming to Claim Sam.

Gabe is really bad at denying himself what he wants, and he wants Sam with an almost visceral pull.

“Explain this to me,” Dean says, and his voice is grating, but something in him—in the bond—pulls at him. Pulls him to obey, to submit to another alpha.

“He needs a strong alpha,” Gabe says. “I’m not any good at that.”

“So you tied yourself to him but you won’t follow through on it?” Dean snarls, “You selfish son of a bitch.”

Gabe laughs, and it echoes in the space between them, dark and full of secrets. “I tied myself to him, and tied him to nothing. Sam has all the control here. He can keep me as long as he wants, and he can walk away when he wants.”

Dean’s anger falters, and Gabe looks away.

“Sam’s it for me. He’s been all there was since I met him in my stupid office seven years ago. But I won’t repeat what happened with Anna. He needs an alpha who is strong enough to protect him.”

_You._

The word is there, unspoken between the two alphas, the same thing that was unspoken between Dean and John, all those years ago.

“He wants you.”

“And I’m his. But I refuse to hurt him.”

Dean tilts his head. “You are willing to submit yourself to an omega. To his pack.”

Gabe feels his stomach flip. Because this isn’t just about Sam, it’s about the _pack_ \--about bonds and family, about being part of something bigger than himself.

It’s about the family that he’s run from since Anna died.

“You’re a good alpha, Dean. My brother picked you, and so did my mate. I’ll submit to your authority.”

Dean stares at him for a long time, and laughs, this startled noise.

“Well, shit. Come on then, you crazy bastard.”

Gabe flashes a nervous grin, and Dean pauses him with a hand on his chest. “I’ll kill you, if you hurt him. You know that, right?”

“I _can’t_ hurt him. The Claim won’t let me. But if I did—I wouldn’t stop you.”

Dean stares at him hard for a long time, and then nods briskly.

And they go into the bookstore, out of the cold night, back to the pack that they both picked.


	11. Epilogue

i.

 

It wasn’t easy. They fought more, and there was one memorable two weeks when Gabriel left, bolted to his older brother’s firm in New York and refused to answer his phone.

It was _hard._

Not just the relationship he and Sam were building—but being in a pack. Krissy told him that being a pack meant family, meant that there were people who cared about you enough to piss you off and get angry.

And that terrified Gabe.

It helped having Castiel there. When the trapped itchy feeling made Gabriel a little manic, Castiel was there, a familiar soothing omega presence that grounded him.

“This,” Cas grumbled as Gabe snuggled into his side eating chocolate drizzled fudge ice cream, “is why you have a mate.”

Gabe shrugged, “But you’ve been doing it for so long you make it _easy._ ”

Castiel huffed his opinion of that, but let Gabe take comfort where he could.

 

ii.

The alphas didn’t fight. That surprised Sam. He kept waiting for Dean to do _something_ to set Gabe off, and it didn’t happen.

Maybe it was because his brother had never been the kind of alpha to throw orders around for no reason.

But it didn’t make sense.

Sam was thinking again. Gabe propped himself up on his mate’s broad chest and bit him lightly, just enough to get his attention. Sam slapped him lightly on the back of the head and Gabe grinned, wide and innocent.

“Stop thinking.” He said.

“Are you happy?” Sam asks, suddenly. Gabe has been mated to Sam now for six months and he’s still struggling to understand how their relationship helps the alpha.

“What kind of stupid question is that?” Gabe demands, and Sam hears the hint of anger in his voice.

“You could have a pack, alpha.”

“I don’t _want_ a pack. I just want—“ He flopped onto his back, glaring at the ceiling.

“What?” Sam asks, his heart aching. “What do you want?”

“You,” Gabe says softly. “This. I know it’s weird. You control the bond, I’m an alpha in a pack instead of controlling my own, but—“ he shrugged. “I’m happy, Sam. I love you, and you’re happy and so am I.”

“People will talk. Your _brothers._ ”

“Do you care?” Gabe asks, curious and hesitant.

“Do you?”

Gabe rolled back to straddle Sam and kisses him, a deep sweet thing that had just a hint of filth in the nip of teeth to his lower lip. “Never, Samsquatch.”

 

iii.

 

It wasn’t, really, that Dean was unhappy with what he had.

He wasn’t.

He fucking loved it.

He had a sassy omega mate in his bed, a pack that was thriving and healthy, a brother in the weirdest relationship he’d ever heard of,  a new girl, Claire, working at the shop he was fighting the urge to adopt.

It was just that, some days, it felt like something was missing.

He hated himself for even thinking that.

He wandered through the sprawling farmhouse he’d bought a few months ago, when Castiel pointed out that the apartment was about two sizes too small. It was empty right now, the entire pack busy with work and school.

But it filled up on the weekends, with laughter and the comforting, steady pulse of warmth, and _home_.

But something was missing.

He hummed softly under his breath and shifted into the kitchen. Maybe he just needed to keep his hands busy.

That’s where Castiel found him, an hour later. The omega smelled, always, warm and sweet, and he was smiling in that dazed way of his that most often came when he finished a book that he’d adored, or after a particularly satisfying round of sex.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean murmurs, leaning down and kissing him.

Cas makes a low noise in his throat, almost a purr, and kisses him back with enough enthusiasm that Dean abandons his pie. He pushes his mate against the counter and fucks into his mouth with lazy strokes of his tongue until Cas is shivering against him, this delicious little tremor that makes him shudder.

“Want your knot, Dean,” Cas whispers as Dean kisses down his throat.

“Yeah?”

The omega nods, his scent swelling delicious and complex around them. Dean smirks. “How ‘bout I get you off here, and then we go to bed and I knot that pretty ass of yours?”

Castiel groans, and thrusts his hips up against Dean, desperate for a little friction. Dean pushes a leg between his thighs and rocks into him, kissing him slow and easy as Castiel sets the pace, until he’s writhing, frantic, against Dean’s leg.

The orgasm comes out of nowhere, and Dean laughs when Cas screams, nails scrambling at Dean’s shoulders as pleasure sweeps through him and yanks him down, almost viciously. He latches onto the mating bite, a pale scar now on the curve of his throat, and feels Cas shudder again.

“Alpha,” he murmurs, anxious and hungry.

Dean kisses him, hard, and—

Lifts his head and stares at his mate.

The house is empty and it’s never empty.

His mate is here, smelling like fucking heaven and something _else._ Something faint and gentle.

And that _feeling_. The anxious, _off_ feeling Dean has been trying to ignore since Cas’s last heat three weeks ago—it’s gone.

Cas is grinning, his legs wrapped around his Dean’s hips.

“Are you…”

He nods, and kisses Dean once, soft. “The pack is getting bigger, Daddy.”

And Dean?

Dean does what he does best.

He laughs, this full bodied thing that shakes Cas, and carries him to bed.

Dean takes care of his mate.


End file.
